Saving Mr Sherman
by Ink Mage
Summary: The first 'Saving Mr Banks' fanfiction. Dick Sherman reflects on the relationships between Mrs Travers, Bob, Walt and himself. Please review


_A.N. Hey all! I must say… I'm so sorry. I know it's been forever since I last posted a story (my Tributes to Jim Henson). I have no explanation. I haven't been particularly busy; I just haven't had the inspiration to write. This is my apology. It's from 'Saving Mr Banks', set just after the conclusion of the 'Feed the Birds' scene. This is the first Saving Mr Banks fanfiction, not just on , but on any website that I can find. I hope you enjoy. Feel free to review, even if it is just to flame._

Dick reached up to click off the small light that had been illuminating the music. He ran his hands softly over the gleaming ivory of the piano keys one final time, before closing the lid. He gathered up his music, the songs that he had been working for hours on. For one dark moment, he was tempted to take the music and toss it from the window, just as Mrs Travers did to the script that they were struggling through.

"Where is the _gravitas_?" he muttered to himself spitefully. This was a Disney movie! A movie for children! He agreed, it wasn't right for the usual cartoon style, but it still should be fun to watch! It was as if this woman—an author for the same age group—had completely forgotten how to see things from a child's point of view. Or anyone else's, for that matter. He scowled down at the music for 'Feed the Birds'. It was quite possibly the best music that he and his brother had ever written. Walt had acknowledged it with a 'That will do'—but to be honest, that was the comment that Walt always gave. Dick had learnt over the years how to interpret 'That will do', and he knew that this one was the equivalent of a hearty cheer. And yet he knew that if he showed it to Mrs Travers, she would tear it—and him—to shreds.

A soft whimper got Dick's instant attention. He turned to see his brother shifting in his sleep, hand unconsciously reaching towards his left knee. Dick sighed. He knew that the stress that Mrs Travis was putting them under was affecting the whole team, but he knew that it was hurting his brother most of all. Bob had been complaining about his knee more often this past week, although never when Mrs Travers could hear him. Bob assumed (and Dick agreed) that Mrs Travers would use his complaint as another reason for an unfair demand, or a threat to withdraw from negotiations. She might even demand that the Sherman Brothers be removed from the production, since they were 'obviously unready and unwilling to assist with creating the movie with the respect it deserves'. And they both knew that Walt would agree with her, if only to keep the peace.

Dick could take any amount of personal pressure or any insults toward himself. But every slight towards his brother _hurt_. He could still remember Bob's look of embarrassment and anger as Mrs Travers had insisted that he leave the studio on the second day like a misbehaving schoolboy. And when Mrs Travers had responded with an "I can see why" to the news of Bob being shot… it had taken a quick grab of his hand from Don to stop Dick from yelling at her.

Would Mrs Travers' opinion have been improved if Dick had told her that Dick had gotten special permission to join the army at 17 so that he could serve in World War Two? Or that he had lead a squad into Dachau just hours after the Nazis had evacuated? Or that the bullet wound that she had joked about had been from a Nazi gun as he had tried to help capture more territory for the Allies? Or that he had come home with no less than seven medals?

Dick sighed, suddenly exhausted. The stress from this damned movie was breaking him, breaking Bob, breaking Dom and breaking Walt. As things stood, the movie was doomed. Walt clearly knew it, but he couldn't stand to break the promise that he had made to his daughters all those years ago. And Dick knew that he had no choice—he would have to hold himself together, keep supporting his brother, and wait for this nightmare to end.


End file.
